Bad Girl
by toybembry
Summary: Faith and Bosco try to keep their cool as a serial killer terrorizes the city
1. Default Chapter

Bad Girl (Lyrics by Madonna) -------------------------  
  
Something's missing and I don't know why  
  
I always feel the need to hide my feelings from you  
  
Is it me or you that I'm afraid of  
  
I tell myself I'll show you what I'm made of  
  
Can't bring myself to let you go  
  
I don't want to cause you any pain  
  
But I love you just the same  
  
And you'll always be my baby  
  
In my heart I know we've come apart  
  
And I don't know where to start  
  
What can I do, I don't wanna feel blue  
  
Bad girl drunk by six  
  
Kissing someone else's lips  
  
Smoked too many cigarettes today  
  
I'm not happy when I act this way  
  
Bad girl drunk by six  
  
Kissing some kind stranger's lips  
  
Smoked too many cigarettes today  
  
I'm not happy, I'm not happy  
  
Something's happened and I can't go back  
  
I fall apart every time you hand your heart out to me  
  
What happens now, I know I don't deserve you  
  
I wonder how I'm ever gonna hurt you  
  
Can't bring myself to let you go  
  
This way  
  
I'm not happy this way  
  
This way  
  
I'm not happy this way  
  
Kissing some kind stranger's lips  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
"Emily, for the last time."  
  
"Ah, come on Mom," Emily pleaded, rolling her eyes. "Everybody's going to be there."  
  
"Yeah, but is everybody grounded?" Faith asked sweetly.  
  
"No, because they don't have you as their mom," Emily said, just as sugary.  
  
"Emily, listen carefully: This is me, telling you, not a chance. For the last time."  
  
Emily stared at Faith, frustrated. Then with a flip of her curly hair she stormed off to her room. Faith sighed wearily. Every day was a battle with that girl, she thought unhappily. She searched for her jacket. Lately, she couldn't seem to keep track of her belongings.  
  
"Fred.have you seen my jacket?"  
  
"Is it in the bedroom?" he asked, his eyes glued to the Spurs game, Miller Lite in hand.  
  
"No," she muttered to herself. Dammit, she thought. She couldn't find it anywhere and she loved that jacket. It was suede too. Dammit.  
  
"Faith, you're gonna be late for work," Fred warned.  
  
She took one last cursory look around the apartment before throwing her hands up in defeat.  
  
"See ya'll tonight," she called, exiting the apartment. ×××××××××  
  
"Hey, let's get started," Swersky called, waving his hands for quiet. The cops of the 55th precinct took their seats. Lieutenant Swersky quickly scanned a copy of the announcements.  
  
"Okay, we've had another body pop up last night," he said as the room groaned collectively. It was the fifth murder in six weeks in their precinct. The victims were all males, white, between the ages of 35-40 and heavyset. While the method of killing varied, each body was found completely naked except for duct tape in the shape of an "x" across their mouths. The cops and detectives of the 55th had been scrambling around, desperately trying to drum up clues as to who was responsible for the horrific killings.  
  
"Good thing I'm in tip-top shape," Bosco whispered to Faith. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"The paper is hinting towards a serial killer," Sully supplied. "Is that officially the case?"  
  
Swersky hesitated. "Officially, no."  
  
"But."  
  
"But, I would be extra careful if I fit the description of the victims," Swersky said carefully.  
  
"Sully, you might wanna start hitting the gym, it could do you some good," Bosco suggested.  
  
"You might wanna pull your head out of your ass, might do us all some good," Sully shot back.  
  
"Hey, just trying to help, we wouldn't want to find you duct taped up in a ditch somewhere. The paperwork would be sick."  
  
"Alright, alright, eyes and ears open out their people," Swersky said, closing out the meeting.  
  
Bosco and Sully shared a few more jabs before parting ways. Outside in the squad, Bosco turned to Faith. "Hel-lo. Earth to Yokas, come in."  
  
Faith glanced at her partner. "What Bos?"  
  
"You've said about two words since you came into the house."  
  
Faith shrugged. "I lost my jacket, I'm a little pissed."  
  
"The brown suede one? Didn't you lose, like, some pair of earrings the other day?"  
  
Faith shook her head wearily. "I'm losing my mind Bos."  
  
"No, you're just getting old!" Bosco chimed in cheerfully.  
  
Faith shot him the death look as they pulled out into the city. 


	2. Meet Sasha

CHAPTER TWO  
  
Sasha blew the smoke from her mouth towards the ceiling of the bar. What a dive, she thought surveying the place and its patrons. She tapped her long, pink fingernails against the scarred surface as she signaled for another drink. Mmmm, pineapple juice and Parrot Bay, she thought, unconsciously licking her lips. Makes me feel sultry.  
  
She took a sip of the concoction as she again studied her fellow bar companions. Her eyes scanned the possibilities. No, no, no.maybe. Her eyes rested on the large fellow by the pool table. The buttons of his shirt strained against his massive girth. Sasha thought about this carefully. He was a bit too fat for her taste, but she had been sitting in the bar for over an hour and was getting impatient. She watched as he wiped the sweat from his brow before grabbing his beer. She smiled. What the hell.  
  
Sasha downed her drink and fluffed her hair. Slowly she approached the hulk, making sure to sashay as she walked. She stopped next to his beer.  
  
"Hey," she said in her deep, sultry voice. The man blinked in confusion and looked around. Seeing that she was actually talking to him, his eyes settled back on her. "Yeah?"  
  
"What's your name, big boy?"  
  
"Tom. Tom Warner."  
  
Hello Tom. "Need a partner? It's no fun to play pool alone."  
  
Tom watched as she perched on the corner of the table, exposing about three inches of thigh in the process. "Sure, a man could always use a partner," he said wolfishly.  
  
Sasha smiled. Good-bye Tom. ×××××××××  
  
"Oh, this is getting out of hand," Faith remarked as Bosco pulled up to the crime scene. News vans, reporters and camera people were straining against the police barriers trying to get a photo, a sound bite. They were in an abandoned parking lot, not too far away from an elementary school.  
  
"The serial tapist strikes again," Bosco deadpanned.  
  
"It's not funny Bos," Faith said sharply as they climbed out of the squad. They were immediately peppered with questions from the animated reporters. Bosco and Faith expertly ignored them.  
  
"Maybe these guys just talked too much, got a little mouthy," Bosco theorized, "and the killer felt that he was doing us all a favor."  
  
"If that were the case, you'd be dead and buried by now."  
  
They came up to where the body lied. The dead man resembled a beached whale, brilliantly white and smooth. His eyes stared up sightlessly, his mouth taped. He was lying in a heap, as if he were unceremoniously dumped there without a second thought. A long, slim rope trailed from around his neck.  
  
"Tom Warner, 36, a former resident of 567 Brighton Ave," Davis announced to 55 David. "Cause of death appears to be strangulation."  
  
"Thank you, M.E. Davis," Bosco said. "How long has he been out here?"  
  
"Well, the real M.E. says he's been dead since last night," Davis answered.  
  
Davis and Bosco discussed more of the details as Faith stared at the corpse. She was filled with horror and dread. Feeling a hand on her arm, she jumped. Bosco looked at her concerned.  
  
"Faith, he's a stiff. You've seen one, you've seen 'em all."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," she stammered, trying to keep her eyes off the unfortunate fellow.  
  
"Come on. The captain wants us to start a canvas."  
  
She nodded, following her partner, taking one last look at Tom Warner. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of foreboding that gripped her. 


	3. Jesus Fred

CHAPTER THREE  
  
Faith watched from her seat on the sofa as her husband stumbled through the door. She could smell the booze from her position and her lip curled in disgust.  
  
"Had a good time?"  
  
Fred looked up quickly, willing his body to still. "Faith, hey Faith," he slurred, "watcha doin' up so late, huh? You gotta get ya beauty sleep ya know. Ya don't wanna be old and ugly, ya know." He tried to adopt a stern look.  
  
"I thought you said you were working a double," Faith said quietly, not a question.  
  
"I was!" he exclaimed. "A double of tequila, a double of schnapps, a double of jagermeister." he trailed off, cracking up over his joke.  
  
"There's a serial killer running around out there," Faith warned sternly, "you might wanna be more careful about your little drinking jaunts."  
  
"Serial killer?" Fred asked, astonished. "I ain't 'fraid of no serial killer. I'd kick me some serial killer ass, I'd-"  
  
"Go to bed Fred," Faith interrupted. He smiled and nodded, stumbling towards the back. Faith put her head in her hands and silently cried. ×××××××××  
  
".and having to wake up next to the stench. The least he could do is pass out in the bathtub."  
  
Bosco looked at his partner in sympathy. Fred was falling into the bottle again and the strain was starting to show on Faith. He felt helpless as he watched her struggle to hide her pain and despair behind the anger. They were dining at Ricardo's on break from the intense evidence search. The city was leaning hard on the police department to find a break in "The Duct Tape Killer" case.  
  
"And Emily. She looks at him with such contempt sometimes," Faith went on. "The sad thing is, I can't blame her. I look at him that way myself sometimes."  
  
"What about AA?" Bosco suggested. "It seemed to work for him last time."  
  
"Obviously not if he's drinking not one year later," Faith snapped.  
  
Bosco reached over and rubbed Faith's shoulder. She closed her eyes, wishing herself away, far, far away. When she opened her eyes she was struck by the intensity of Bosco's gaze.  
  
"What can I do, Faith?" he asked softly.  
  
"Get me a ticket to Barbados," she joked weakly. She was starting to feel foolish, unloading her problems on Bosco.  
  
"Only if I get to tag along," he joined in, winking. "I hear the chicks are bronze all year long."  
  
"So are the guys.how soon can you get the tickets?"  
  
They laughed, glad to break the tension. Their radios came to life, summoning them back to the daily grind. Faith reached into her purse to grab her wallet.  
  
"Let me," she offered.  
  
"Oooh, a woman who pays. You're after my own heart."  
  
The smile on Faith's lips died as she opened her wallet. It was empty, missing two twenties. She searched her purse coming up empty-handed.  
  
"I don't believe this," she said smacking her forehead. "My money's missing!"  
  
"Are you sure? Maybe you left it at home," Bosco offered.  
  
Faith vigorously shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I had forty bucks in my wallet when I got off last night. I went straight home and stayed there 'til I left for work."  
  
"Wait." Bosco murmured, piecing it together. "You're not suggesting.come on, Faith. Which one?"  
  
"Take your pick," she said angrily. "Charlie wouldn't know what to do with five bucks, much less forty, so we can rule him out. So that leaves my drunkard husband or my fibbing daughter. My money's on the daughter, no pun and all that."  
  
"You've been losing shit left and right lately," Bosco reasoned. "This is probably the latest in the series."  
  
"No," she repeated. "Think about it. My jacket? My earrings? Money? I think Emily may have graduated from liar to thief."  
  
Bosco sighed. "What are ya gonna do?"  
  
"I'm going to knock some sense into her," Faith answered, decisively.  
  
"Well, in the mean time, I'll get the bill." 


	4. Mistress of the Night

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Sasha loved the night. Night was sexy, mysterious and dangerous. Just like her. She breathed in the New York City air. She felt liberated, completely in control of her destiny.  
  
She walked to the subway entrance and descended into its humid depths. She could feel eyes on her as she passed the faceless bystanders. Stupid bastards, she thought with disgust. They wouldn't know power if it stripped naked in front of their very eyes. This was power. I am power.  
  
She perched carelessly on a bench, her skirt affording a free view to any and all who cared to look. She felt a stirring at the base of her neck and slowly glanced behind her. A man, stocky, with a bit of a paunch was eyeing her with interest. He had thinning blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief.  
  
"Whaddaya lookin' at?" she asked with full attitude. Right build, skin color. Perfect.  
  
"Everything but your face," he cracked back, looking directly at her chest.  
  
"Fuck off, playboy," she snapped, diving into strategy. Sure enough, he walked over to her and helped himself to a seat.  
  
"Pathetic husband you got, letting you walk outta the house in that get- up," he said, eyeing her from head to toe. "It's a sick world out here, ya know what I mean?"  
  
Sasha gave him her thousand-watt smile. "I know exactly what you mean." ×××××××××  
  
Faith yelped in pain as she stubbed her toe against Emily's bed frame. The throbbing in her foot added to her mounting frustration. What, did she sell my shit or something, she thought angrily. She had gone over every square inch of her children's room and couldn't come up with her missing items. She placed her hands on her hips, trying to determine her next move.  
  
Giving up, she started to straighten up the mess she had created. Bending down to pick up a discarded pillow, she noticed that the mattress was slightly askew. Acting on a hunch, she lifted up the mattress and peered underneath.  
  
Faith immediately spotted a pack of cigarettes and three brightly packaged condoms. In a trance, she scooped up the items and stared at them, lost in thought. Her mind warred between fury and despair. Emily was fourteen. Fourteen.  
  
So deep in thought, Faith didn't hear anyone enter the apartment, much less Emily come up behind her.  
  
"What are you doing?" Emily asked in alarm, gripping her backpack so tightly her knuckles were white. Faith looked at her daughter, frightened of the possibilities, angry at the stupidity.  
  
"What. The hell. Is this?" Faith asked, barely containing her rage. Emily spotted the items in her mother's hands, the color slowly draining from her face.  
  
"I.Mom.where, where did you get that?" Emily stuttered.  
  
"Why, underneath your mattress Miss Emily," Faith sang, sarcastically. "Condoms?! Condoms?! What the fuck do you need condoms for, huh? And the cigarettes? Good for a smoke after a little roll in the hay, huh? Answer me!"  
  
Emily stood, stupefied. "Mom.those aren't mine," she whispered.  
  
"STOP LYING!!" Faith shouted. "I've had it with your sneaking, your lying, your stealing, I've had enough! My daughter is smart, she wouldn't do this.you? I don't even know who the hell you are. Whoever you are you need to get the fuck outta my house and give me back my EMILY!!"  
  
Emily burst into tears frightened by Faith's outburst. Opening her mouth to protest, she thought better of it and ran from the room. A moment later the apartment door slammed.  
  
Faith sank onto the skewed mattress, trembling with rage. 


	5. Falling

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"She says they're not hers, Faith."  
  
"Well, then whose are they? Huh? Did the tooth fairy leave 'em?"  
  
Fred ran his hand down his face, trying to wake up. He had gotten a frantic phone call from his daughter yesterday, saying that she wasn't coming home unless he was there to protect her. From her mother.  
  
"Christ," he mumbled. Can't these two just freakin' get along?  
  
"Yeah, Christ," Faith mimicked. "Don't take up for her. We need to find out what's going on with Emily, who she's sleeping with and when she started smoking."  
  
"That's the thing," Fred said in frustration, "she swears that those things aren't hers. She says she's never had sex and that smoking is gross. She thinks."  
  
"She thinks what?" Faith asked, irritated with her husband's naïve thinking.  
  
"She thinks you planted them on purpose."  
  
Faith gaped at Fred. Then she burst out laughing. Fred stared at her as she fought to get herself under control.  
  
"Fred, I think Emily may have some counseling in her future," Faith said, chuckling.  
  
The telephone rang, but neither reached over to grab it. "Faith I know you didn't pull a stunt like this, but to tell you the truth, I believe her. She honestly seems like she's in shock. And have we ever smelled smoke on her, on her clothes?"  
  
The answer machine kicked on, Bosco's voice cutting off Faith's reply. "Faith? Faith? Please pick up. It's bad. You gotta pick up."  
  
Faith froze at the pleading note in her partner's voice before the ending beep. She snatched the phone and punched in Bosco's cell number.  
  
He picked up on the first ring. "Faith, thank God."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"It's Darrell. He got Darrell, Faith."  
  
"Your cousin?!" Faith asked in confusion. She caught Fred rummaging around the fridge for an early morning beer. She pulled her mind back to the conversation. "Who got Darrell?"  
  
"The fucking "Duct Tape Killer" Faith! He got Darrell!"  
  
Faith couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Oh my God."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. It's bad, so bad."  
  
"Where are you, Bos?"  
  
"The subway entrance on 44th."  
  
"I'll be right there." ×××××××××  
  
Bosco's mind was numb as he listened to his mother Rose try to calm down his aunt in Jersey on the phone. He looked up to see Faith rushing up to him. Silently, she pulled him into her arms.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Bosco shook his head. No. They sat there like that, Faith's arms protective around Bosco, his head on her shoulder. After a moment she spoke.  
  
"You wanna tell me what happened?" she coaxed gently.  
  
"Some homeless guy found his body near the construction, ya know, where they're expanding the tunnel." Bosco began. "He was naked, the tape was over his mouth and, and."  
  
Faith gave him a reassuring squeeze. Bosco took a shaky breath and continued. "He was cut up Faith. Real bad. Blood everywhere. He cut him good."  
  
Faith shivered. At that moment, the coroner and his assistants were guiding the stretcher up the subway steps. Faith, Bosco and Rose watched, each trying to cope with their horror. The procession ended at the coroner's van as they deposited the body and roared off.  
  
"Darrell," Rose whispered, plaintively.  
  
Bosco felt a cold fury overtake his grief. He stared at the spot where the van once stood. The bastard.  
  
"The bastard," Bosco said out loud. Faith and Rose swiveled their heads toward him. Faith didn't like what she saw. Bosco had that look. The look of revenge and destruction.  
  
"Bos," Faith said, struggling to remain calm, "we're gonna get him. Believe that."  
  
"Yes, we're gonna get him," Bosco replied, his voice dropping a few inches. "Or die trying." 


	6. Satin and Lace

CHAPTER SIX  
  
God bless the weekend, Faith thought. She was drained from the events of the past two days. Darrell Boscorelli's death had pushed the 55th precinct into overdrive. There was a $500,000 reward for the head of "The Duct Tape Killer" or for information leading to his arrest. Bosco had been wired to the max, turning down the Lieu's offer for time off.  
  
"And let someone else bring in this jag-off?" he had replied, coldly. "Not a rat's chance in hell. I'm gonna drag him into this house by his balls."  
  
Faith rubbed her forehead, mentally fighting off a migraine. She was worried about Bosco. He had volunteered to pull extra shifts to help catch the killer, against Faith's misgivings. She was afraid the stress might be too much for him to handle.  
  
And then there was Emily and Fred. Fred had been drinking less this week, much to Faith's surprise and thin delight. Emily on the other hand was avoiding Faith like the plague. After numerous talks and confrontations, Emily wasn't copping to the stealing or the illicit goods. Faith hoped that the accusations would be enough to keep Emily straight until she figured out just what to do.  
  
Fred had taken the kids to a baseball game, leaving Faith alone with her thoughts. She hoped he'd come home sober. Faith started to reminisce on the early days of the Yokas household, before Fred started drinking. The happy memories brought tears to her eyes and she got a sudden impulse to flip through some old photo albums. Hopping off the couch, she padded barefoot into her bedroom.  
  
The photo albums were kept underneath the bed, Faith having to get down on all fours to dig them out. She reached for the first stack, but her fingers connected with something cool and silky. Grabbing it, she pulled it out for inspection. In her grasp was a bright pink, satin thong.  
  
What is it with the beds in this house, she thought wildly, in complete shock. She rubbed the material together trying to sort out her confusion. How did it get under the bed. More importantly, whose was it?!  
  
Faith sat on her behind and leaned against the bed, surrendering to the assault of her migraine. The panties were definitely not hers. Emily? She checked the size. Too big for Emily's little rump. Faith fought off a wave of nausea as the implication became clear. Son of a bitch.  
  
He was cheating on her. Had to be. Never in her life had Faith owned such a risqué pair of undies. Faith felt the tide of humiliation sweep over her as she thought about his drinking and the late nights and early mornings. He was getting more than one brain blitzed on these overnights.  
  
Fred found her like that over two hours later, sitting in a trance, clutching the wretched thong.  
  
"Faith.are you alright?" he asked, alarmed.  
  
Faith slowly opened her eyes and stared at her husband of fourteen years. "Do I look alright?" she whispered.  
  
Fred shook his head. "What's that in your hand?"  
  
Quick as lightening, Faith sprung up and thrust the panties into his face. "The bitch forgot them. Or was it a present?" she spat venomously.  
  
Fred took a staggering step back as the item came into focus. "Faith where in the world did you get those?"  
  
"Don't play with me!" she screamed. "Who is she? You brought her here? To my home? My BED?!"  
  
Fred was dumbfounded as he struggled to make sense of his wife's ranting. "You, you think those are mine.or have something to do with me?"  
  
"What, ya get so drunk ya can't remember her name? Just tell me what she looks like, I'll do the rest."  
  
Fred threw Faith a bizarre look. Despite himself he was getting mad at her baseless accusations. "They aren't mine! I don't know how those got in here! Did you buy them and just forgot or something?"  
  
"You cheating bastard. The least you could do is be a man and admit it. Go on Fred. Admit it."  
  
Fred looked at his wife. She has lost her mind. "I'm not cheating on you Faith. I go out, have a few with the boys, but that's it. That's it."  
  
"I see where Emily gets her lying streak from," she said snidely.  
  
This was getting out of hand. Fred started to look closely at his wife. First the stuff in Em's room, now this? "Honey, we need to calm down," he began tentatively, not sure how to approach this. "Things have been stressful around here lately, I think it would be a good idea for us all to go talk to someone, learn how to handle that stress."  
  
Faith smiled grimly. "I know exactly how to handle my stress. You and your daughter need to drop off the face of this earth. That would definitely relieve me of my stress."  
  
"You need to talk to someone Faith,' Fred asserted.  
  
Faith stared at him. "You think I'm crazy? Do you think I'm the crazy one? No, what's making me crazy is that everybody seems to think I'm the crazy one!"  
  
This was a lost battle and he knew it. He needed a drink. Hell, he needed a couple of drinks. Just enough to help him sift through this problem. Whatever the problem was.  
  
"I'm going out Faith."  
  
"Say hello to the whore for me." 


	7. Despair

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Bosco flipped through the channels aimlessly, finding some strange comfort in the flickering images. He was exhausted, no doubt from the extra shifts. But it was worth it. Or will be worth it.  
  
A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought about his cousin. Darrell was a bartender up in a bar in Jersey. A good worker and a good friend, he tried his best to mind his own business. His only weakness was a bull on for skirt. Bosco smiled sadly. Ran in the family.  
  
The confusing thing about the whole mess was what was he doing in the city? Darrell hated it up here, said it was full of filth and degenerates-guess he was right-and preferred to keep quarters in South Orange, making Bosco have to travel there to see him. Hell, Bosco couldn't even remember the last time Darrell had set foot inside the city.  
  
He grabbed his cordless and started punching numbers. His aunt picked up on the fourth ring.  
  
"Hey, it's Maurice. How ya holdin' up?"  
  
"Oh, hey baby," his aunt sighed. "It gets better, then it falls apart somehow. How's the investigation going?"  
  
"It's going," he answered, "I'm working some overtime to help out. I got a question for ya if that's alright."  
  
"Sure, shoot."  
  
"What the hell was Darry doin' up here in the city?"  
  
His aunt made a noise of surprise. "Maurice, he's been seein' that girl, Rachelle. About three months now."  
  
"Yeah, I know.so?"  
  
"She moved to New York last week. They're doin'.were doin', the long distance thing. That was his first visit in fifteen years"  
  
Bosco thought about this. "Damn."  
  
His aunt started to sniffle. "Yeah, first time back and it kills him," she said flatly.  
  
"What's her number? I need to talk to her." ×××××××××  
  
Sasha fought and fought with all her might, but she couldn't ward it off. The depression.  
  
Every time she let her mind wander towards him, she fell so deep and couldn't get herself out. The depression, it was merciless and total, consuming every fiber of her being. She couldn't function, couldn't garner the power she knew she possessed.  
  
Why oh why, my love, she thought desperately. She wished things were different, wished she could just reach out and take the hand he offered her time and time again. But she couldn't. She wasn't allowed to. The devil made those decisions.  
  
She twisted and writhed on her bed, fighting the depression, the feeling. As if she were literally drowning.  
  
She loved him for as long as she could remember. He was her true love, so near yet so far away. She wanted to reveal herself, confess her love. But she couldn't hurt him. Couldn't let him know who she really was.  
  
She was a bad girl.  
  
She refused to let him go, knowing full well the devil would never allow her to be with him. The devil held the key to her happiness, the sloth. She was his slave and they both knew it.  
  
So she would keep killing the devil until he released her from her shackles. 


	8. Confessions

CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Bosco and Faith rolled up to Rachelle Forester's apartment building. Bosco threw a worried look towards his partner. For the past week or so, Faith had been looking a little frayed around the edges and she periodically would reach up and rub her temples. Bosco had been forcefully pushing back concern for her to focus on this case, especially since the eighth body had turned up two days ago, this time the victim taking a six story dive off a balcony. But, now he could see that a talk was in order.  
  
"Let's talk to Rachelle, then go grab a bite to eat, alright?" Bosco suggested as they rode the elevator up to the third floor.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Faith said shortly.  
  
"Well, I am. Ah, here it is right next to the elevator."  
  
Bosco knocked rapidly on Apartment 301. A fresh faced, petite brunette opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked tentatively. "I've already told everything I know."  
  
"Rachelle? Hi, I'm, I'm.Maurice Boscorelli and this is my partner Faith Yokas."  
  
The little woman gave a slight gasp. "I've heard of you.Bosco? Come in?"  
  
They sat down in her cozy living room. From the corner of his eye, Bosco saw Faith discreetly rub her right temple. He then spotted a picture of Rachelle and Darrell sitting on the mantle.  
  
"I can't say how sorry I am," Rachelle began. "Darry and I had only been together for three months, but it was gonna work. I could feel it. He had wanted me to meet you, he said he was gonna call you before he went back to Jersey so we could all hook up."  
  
Bosco nodded, smiling gravely. "I'm also sorry," he said, "but I need to ask you a few questions about where Darry was heading that night. If you could remember anything that you might have forgotten to tell the detectives."  
  
Rachelle shook her head helplessly. "I was so tore up, I just told them he went out for a little while, but I couldn't remember where he had gone. We mostly stayed here, Darry couldn't stand New York. But he said he had to go somewhere."  
  
She snapped her fingers. "That's right! He wanted to hunt down this friend.Paul.Peter.Perry. Perry!"  
  
"Perry Williams," Bosco supplied, excited. "Yeah, they used to bartend together up in Jersey."  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't have a number or an address."  
  
"You've been enough help," Bosco assured her, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Thank you so much Rachelle."  
  
"No, thank you. Just get this guy, will ya?" ×××××××××  
  
Faith and Bosco sat on a bench in the park, Bosco hungrily wolfing down his tacos.  
  
"So we just run this guy's name and come up with an address, yeah?"  
  
Bosco nodded. "If not, I remember the bar where he now works," he said mouth full of shells and beans, "it's on the upper east side. We could drop in on him."  
  
Faith nodded absently. Bosco wiped his mouth clean and started in on Faith. "Talk to me."  
  
Faith looked at him, confused. "Huh?"  
  
"I know my head's been full of this case, my cousin, but I'm worried about you," he said sincerely.  
  
Faith smiled thinly. "I'm okay, my family needs to be shot, but I'm okay."  
  
Bosco stared deep into her eyes, fighting off a sense of dread. "It's something else.you can tell me ya know. I'm your partner. Are you sick again?"  
  
Faith pondered this question. Should she tell him? She had been keeping it to herself for so long, she didn't quite know how to voice it. But the look of worry on Bosco's face sealed it for her.  
  
"No, the cancer's not back," she said in a low voice, "it's weird. I don't know.it's really weird."  
  
Bosco prodded her with his eyes. Faith sighed. "I get these.migraines. They're kinda scary."  
  
"Scary how?"  
  
"Well, they come on little then they just build and build until I literally.shut down."  
  
"Shut down?"  
  
"Yeah," Faith said with a half chuckle. "I pass out."  
  
Bosco stared at Faith, horrified. "You.pass out?!"  
  
"Or fall into a deep sleep," Faith reasoned quickly. "Whatever you wanna call it. Then I wake up and I'm fine. But every once in awhile, like today, I get little spurts of pain, but they aren't debilitating or anything."  
  
"I think now would be a good time to go to a doctor Faith," Bosco ordered. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
"A couple of months."  
  
"Aw, Jesus Yokas."  
  
Faith shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Should she tell him the other thing? It really wasn't anything, just a mere coincidence.  
  
"What?" Bosco demanded. "There's something else."  
  
Faith shook her head. That was it for today. "Nothing, I'm just tired and fed up."  
  
"Why don't you take off early? I can look up Perry myself," Bosco offered.  
  
She nodded, taking him up on the offer. She would see a doctor as soon as possible. 


	9. The Hunter

CHAPTER NINE  
  
Bosco walked into Shoney's bar, feeling every eye in the place trained on him. He shrugged and started searching faces until he spotted Perry. Perry's most distinguishing feature was his eyes. They were emerald green and shocking against his cocoa brown skin. Bosco walked up to the wiry middle-aged man with a smile.  
  
"Hey, man, long time no see."  
  
"Well, well, if it isn't Officer Boscorelli." He was smiling, but his sparkling eyes held a hint of sadness. "Man, I'm so sorry about Darry. What the hell."  
  
"Yeah, it's been tough," Bosco agreed. "Listen, can I speak to ya for a second?"  
  
They moved over to a semi-private booth in the corner. "You want anything?" Perry asked.  
  
"Naw, I'm on the job. Listen, I'm trying to nail down Darry's movements on the night he was murdered."  
  
"Well, he was here," Perry offered, lighting up a cigarette.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, he came in, had a couple. You know how he liked those fruity drinks."  
  
Bosco was intrigued. He could feel his hands start to tingle in anticipation. "Did he talk to anyone, did you notice if someone was taking a particular interest in him?"  
  
Perry shook his head. "Naw, nobody was chatting up his ugly ass, God rest his soul, but he was sure focused on some honey at the jukebox. Followed her out of here."  
  
Bosco's heart stilled. A possible witness? "But.he didn't talk to her is that what you're trying to say? He just followed her outta here?"  
  
Perry nodded his head slowly, smiling. "Yeah boy, you know how Darry was with the females.a lot of horniness and absolutely no game."  
  
"Perry, think hard. What'd she look like?"  
  
"Aw shit man," Perry said, stubbing out his butt with a pained expression on his face. "I only glanced at her once or twice. She was blond, medium height, great legs. I didn't really see her face.matter fact, I don't think she ever turned my way."  
  
Bosco tried not to let his frustration show. "Alright, Perry. Tomorrow there's gonna be a couple more cops comin' in, probably detectives, and they're gonna wanna talk to some of your regulars."  
  
Perry nodded. "I hope you get this bastard Maurice. This is some sick shit." ×××××××××  
  
"Faith, I don't know what to tell you," Dr. Greene said kindly. "You're in near-perfect health. The tests show everything's working right except that your blood pressure is a little more than slightly elevated. That may be the cause of the migraines."  
  
Faith chewed her bottom lip. She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.  
  
"I can give you some medication to help control it," he went on, "but, my best advice is to try and relax. Get some more sleep, stay on a regular eating schedule, and try to find a de-stress type of activity. Something that will help you vent out that frustration."  
  
Faith nodded. It's about what she expected to hear. She thanked Dr. Greene and headed home to get some more rest before her shift.  
  
She was mortified to find Fred puking his guts out in the bathroom after she walked in. She glanced at her watch.  
  
"Fred? Fred. What the hell are you doin' here? You were supposed to be at work three hours ago!"  
  
He gasped for air. "Dammit Faith! Don't you see I'm sick? I can't go to work barfin' up my breakfast."  
  
"You mean your alcohol?" she spat angrily. She turned and left him to it. She marched into the kitchen and nearly slipped on an empty bottle of Miller Lite. Infuriated, she picked it up and chucked it into the wall, shattering the glass. She looked around the kitchen and noticed the empty bottles lying everywhere.  
  
Faith suddenly grabbed her head. God.  
  
She struggled to calm down, but the pounding was incessant. Her vision started to blur as she saw two Freds stumble into the living room and collapse on two couches. She couldn't believe it, the pain had never come on this quick before.  
  
She let out a strangled cry as the darkness enveloped her. 


	10. MIA

CHAPTER TEN  
  
"Bosco, you're missing a partner," Ty deadpanned, exiting the room.  
  
Bosco looked impatiently at his watch, catching Swersky's eye. Roll call was over and there was still no sign of Yokas.  
  
"She hasn't called in.what's goin' on?"  
  
"I don't know Lieu.this ain't like her. She's the responsible one," he muttered. He hoped she was okay. After hearing about her migraines.  
  
"I'll give her apartment a ring," Bosco said, jumping up.  
  
No answer. He called three more times and got the machine each time. He then tried her cell, but it was off.  
  
"Sit on the desk until she arrives," Swersky ordered.  
  
Groaning, he headed to the first floor. "She better be hurtin' or she's gonna pay," he grumbled to himself.  
  
After taking a call from an old lady missing her cat, one of the detectives, Sorenson, approached Bosco.  
  
"You in trouble or something?"  
  
"Naw, my partner's just MIA. What's up?"  
  
Sorenson rolled his head. "I need a massage."  
  
"Uh, I reserve my talents for the ladies."  
  
"Shut up, Bosco. Anyways, no dice on Shoney's."  
  
Bosco's hopes fell. He thought they were so close.  
  
"The best we got was some guy saying the lady was dressed in pink and white. Oh, and she's got a nice set of knockers."  
  
"To go along with her legs," Bosco joked half-heartedly. "Jesus, doesn't anybody look at a woman's face?"  
  
"Ask me that again, Boscorelli."  
  
Bosco thanked Sorenson. Momentarily forgetting Faith, he looked over the possibilities. He either struck out with the chick or he scored. She was more than likely the last person to see him alive.  
  
The last person.a seed of an idea started to grow in Bosco's mind.  
  
"Sorenson, wait." The detective turned around on the stairs, expectantly.  
  
"Did Darrell have sex before dying?"  
  
"Yeah, but that's not relevant."  
  
Bosco's interest was piqued. "Why's that?"  
  
"Four out of the eight victims had sex before death, one of whose wife is claiming that it was her. And each one had evidence of latex on their privates." Sorenson could see where Bosco was going with this. Slowly he walked back to the information desk. "What are ya thinking?"  
  
"Well, there's a good chance this woman was the last person who saw my cousin alive. Besides the killer. The trail turns cold after he followed her out of that bar. How do we know our killer isn't a she?" ×××××××××  
  
Faith felt as if she were floating to the surface of a very deep ocean. She struggled to reach the light, suddenly sitting up gasping for breath.  
  
She looked around. She was in her bed. How had she gotten in here? Usually she woke up where the attack took place. Her head was nursing the remnants of the migraine. Groaning, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, her eye catching the clock.  
  
"Oh shit!" she exclaimed. It was a quarter after five. Her hand flew to her mouth. She had been out for like five hours. Why didn't someone wake her? She was late for work, extremely late for work. She rushed into the living room.  
  
She spotted Fred passed out on the couch, snoring loudly, the remains of his stomach contents staining his work shirt. A blanket was slung over his legs. She spotted Emily and Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, gaping at her.  
  
"You guys, why didn't someone wake me? I overslept, do you know how late I am?"  
  
Emily and Charlie shared a look. "Mom.when did you get home?" Charlie asked in a small voice.  
  
Faith looked at them, confused. "I never left.I'm late for work. I, I was in the bedroom." How she got in there remained a mystery.  
  
Charlie looked to Emily for help. Clearing her throat, Emily spoke up. "Mom," she said carefully, "You weren't here."  
  
"Yes, Emily I was in the bedroom, sleeping," Faith said patiently.  
  
Again Emily felt the fear she first experienced when her mother jumped her about her activities. Bravely, she said, "Mom, Charlie and I went in there to get a blanket to cover Dad's shi- to keep him warm. You were nowhere in sight."  
  
Faith was speechless. Her children were looking at her as if she were crazy. Nowhere in sight? Then where the hell was she?  
  
Faith fought the nausea that threatened to exit her stomach. "I've gotta call work," she said, frantically searching for the phone. She quickly dialed the precinct.  
  
"55th precinct, Officer Boscorelli speaking."  
  
Faith was so glad to hear his voice. "Bos, Bos it's me."  
  
"Where the hell are you?"  
  
She looked back at her children and moved off into her bedroom. Shutting the door, she let the tears flow. "Bos," she whispered. "I'm losing my mind." 


End file.
